From Paris, With Fax
by lunareclipse3
Summary: Short, simple Fax fluff oneshot. Fang and his best friends go overseas for a little vacation. Little does he know he's in for love and the Parisian ride of his life. Based on the Google search commercial.


This was based on the Google commercial that aired during the Super Bowl. It melted my heart and I thought Fax, Fax, Fax while watching it. So I (finally) wrote this. It's not my best but I hope you like it.

**From Paris, With Fax**

* * *

"Are you serious?" Fang asked.

"Why wouldn't we be?" the two blondes grinned.

"Lemme get this straight. You two want to go to Paris this summer. Not to shop, not to eat, not to meet girls, and not to blow up the Eiffel Tower?"

"Okay, maybe the last two." Iggy admitted.

"_But_," Gazzy interjected, " the point is to study and earn the college credit we're, uh, lacking."

Fang looked at the eager faces of his best friends.

"Fine. Whatever." Fang got out his laptop; he'd carried it everywhere with him since he was fourteen. He went to Google and typed in:

_"Study abroad paris france"_

_

* * *

_

_2 weeks later_

"Here we are!" Iggy said, shielding his eyes from the Parisian sun, a useless gesture.

"I'm hungry," Gazzy said. Fang remembered coming here when he was younger and talking to his friends over the phone:

_"I'll be back soon guys."_

_"A'lright. Don't forget to bring me something." Gazzy said._

_"Yeah, like a french girl!" Iggy called from the background._

There _was_ one girl Fang had noticed- but no, it was over five years ago, she'd be long gone. They caught a cab to their hotel. It had an exceptional view of the Eiffel Tower. Which Fang's pyromaniac friends had promised not to blow up. Much. As they unpacked Fang shook his head, wondering how they'd gotten their bombs past security. Gazzy flopped onto his bed.

"I'm hungry!" he whined into his pillow.

"And I'm bored." Iggy added. "I know! Let's go to that one museum of art- the Lourve! I've always wanted to see that!"

"And you never will." Fang mumbled.

"I'm hungry!" You could guess who said that.

Fang sat next to Iggy and opened a Google page. In he typed,

"_cafes near the louve_"

"You spelled it wrong." Iggy said.

"How do you know?" Fang asked indignantly.

In fact, at the the top of the screen it said: did you mean "_lourve_".

Iggy smirked. Fang rolled his eyes. He chose the cafe closet to the museum.

"_caberet_"

* * *

The boys caught a cab to the art museum.

"Food first!" Gazzy insisted. His friends faithfully nodded and they took a seat at Caberet. One of the best things in Paris was people-watching. You could spend _hours_ at an outdoor table watching people go by. Or in Iggy's case, listening. But listening was a pretty good skill too because Iggy said "A Ten at ten o'clock."

Why was the blind guy paying more attention to checking out girls than the two with sight? Because Gazzy was absorbed in, or absorbing, his pastries and Fang was glued to his blog.

"I'm rolling my eyes Iggy." Fang said, but he checked them out anyway, "Nah, an eight, a six, and, hm..."

The one in the lead was familiar. She towered over the other two, clearly the oldest. She had long, dark blonde hair, the same gold as the sun overhead and a dazzling smile when laughing, like she was now. Her friend pointed to Fang and he blushed, ducking behind his computer screen.

_I think I know that girl but it can't be her because that'd be too perfect and the universe will never work like that but still I really hope it is and I think she left so-_

Fang's run-on sentence of thought was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.

"Parlez-vous français?" the girl asked him as he turned around.

Fang understood that much and shook his head. The girl smiled and struggled to say in English,

"My friend says you were... how do you say... checking me out. Like groceries."

Fang blushed, "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay. Just do not do again." she said in a threatening tone, even crossing her arms. He decided to assume she was joking.

"Your name?"

"Fang."

"Fang. _Croc_. I am-"

"Maximum Ride."

She raised an eyebrow. "You know me?"

"You know her?" Iggy whispered. Fang elbowed him,

"I've been here before. I think I met you."

A look of recognition passed over the girl, "Ah yes!" she said, delighted, "you nearly fell off top of the Eiffel Tower!"

"I like high places," Fang said indignantly, not for the first time today. The girl smirked and waved over her friends. One started talking with Iggy, the other started eating Gazzy's food. Maximum 'call-me-Max' and Fang got into a conversation. The language barrier didn't effect it too much. The sun was setting over the Seine before they stopped talking.

"It's getting late." Fang said wistfully.

"I meet you again? Here?" Max asked. Almost smiling, Fang agreed.

"Vous avez un cagneux sourire de, très séduisante. Tu es tres mignon." she said, as she and her friends walked away. When Fang returned to his hotel room, he went to Google and typed in:

"_translate tu es tres mignon_"

Up came:

"_you're very cute"_

Fang went to sleep with a real smile at his lips.

_

* * *

_

_A week later_

When he suspected his friends were busy Fang Googled, "_impress a french girl_"

Apparently, he didn't have to have a car or a super IQ. He was relieved. He closed and the screen and swiveled around in the chair to find Iggy grinning at him wickedly.

"'Impress a french girl'?" Iggy said mockingly. "So who is it?"

"No one," Fang fibbed.

"I can tell you're lying, dimwit. Wait, late me guess. It's the one you called a six. Hm, I hope not. She sounded much too young for you. Or the one you called an eight, 'cause frankly, she was a nine. Or-no, it can't be," Iggy's blind eyes widened. "It was the bossy, tough one in the lead. Maximum Ride. _The girl you knew_!"

"Shut up, Ig."

"This is too good. I should have know it was her you've been sneaking out to see for the past week! Wait till the Gasman finds out."

"Do you want to shut up?"

"Nope. In fact, since I'm so awesome, I'll help you out Fang."

"Like I need help from you."

"You do." Iggy said, matter-of-fact. He had Fang summon a search page, "French girls like sweet, fancy things," he instructed, "Like chocolate."

At the sound of that, the Gasman woke up and joined them. He didn't really care about Fang's love life but the prospect of sweets was too much to resist.

"_chocolate shops in paris france_"

"The first looks fine, "_cacao et choclat_". That sounds like chocolate, right?"

"Sure, Gazzy, sure," Fang chuckled. He recalled an auction where truffles had been sold for millions of dollars. He wondering if Max would like that. So in he typed,

"_what are truffles_"

"Aren't they what pigs eat? Or giant mushrooms," Iggy asked, listening over his shoulder.

Actually, they are "_highly prized_" mushrooms. Maybe I'll get something else..."

* * *

_3 days later_

Fang was lying on his bed, blogging about the 'tram' system in Paris when the hotel room phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Bonjour," said the person on the other line. It was Max, "J'ai vraiment apprécié notre date de la nuit dernière. Our date? I have much fun."

"Yeah me, too."

"Would you and you're friends like to come see a Truffant with me and my _copines_, girlfriends?"

"Sure."

"Bien. I will see you at the cafe tomorrow night. Au revior."

"Bye."

It was only after Fang hung up that he realized he had no idea who or what a 'Truffant' was. So up opened a Google paged and he searched the web for,

"_who is truffaut_"

Turns out he was an "_influential filmmaker_". It took no more than that to bore Fang. Still, he'd put up with it if he could be with Max. Iggy and Gazzy? He wasn't so sure.

* * *

_2 weeks later_

Waiting in line to board the plane back to Colorado, Fang thought about his last night in Paris.

_Fang and Max stood in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. It itself was adorned with lights and the stars twinkled especially bright, as if just for them. Water ran by softly and the streets were surprisingly empty._

_"You're leaving soon aren't you?" Max spoke the dreaded words. Fang nodded; the study session was over._

_"I'd come to America with you if I could."_

_"And I'd stay here. But you can't and I can't."_

_"Then let us forgot it," Max suggested._

_And Fang had his first real French kiss._

He didn't even wait until the plane was up in the air to Google, "_long distance relationship advice_". He thought for a minute, looked at his best friends snoring beside him and out the window to the city below, bright, and livid, and almost like home. Scratch that, he thought, and he typed in:

_"jobs in paris"_

There were some links, "_working in france - jobs in paris_", but he set aside any real worries for now.

* * *

_8 months later_

"Are you positive about this?" Iggy asked, looking worriedly at his best friend.

Fang almost said 'keep you're eyes on the road' but he caught himself, "I'm positive."

"Are you sure. Because it's not to late-"

"I'm sure," Fang said firmly. Iggy nodded after a moment,

"I know. You'd never do something like this unless you were sure. It's just you're my brother, man. You could be making the biggest mistake of your life-"

"Or, this could be the greatest thing that ever happened to you." Gazzy piped up from the backseat.

"That too." Iggy grinned.

"I'll be fine," and just to make sure, Fang went to Google:

"_DL 8601 on schedule_"

He was right on track, and he was in for the ride of his life.

* * *

_A year and a half later_

"Honey," Max said, "Look up churches. I've only been to one once but I want a traditional wedding."

Fang agreed, he had the same idea. And anything to please he would-be Bridezilla.

"_churches in paris_"

"_Paroisse Saint Leon_"

Yes, they were getting married in five months. Iggy and the Gasman were flying in and Max's girlfriends would be in attendance as well. It was going to be small wedding, and the reception... somewhere very high up.

* * *

_Two years later_

"Fang," Max said. He looked at his wife, her blonde hair shining, her brown eyes tired but beautiful, "It almost Angelique's bedtime. Have you figured it out yet?"

"Not quite," Fang chuckled. So, he went to Google and typed in:

"_how to assemble a crib_"

**The End**

* * *

So, yeah, that's it. The commercial's called 'Google Parisian Love' if you haven't seen it. Beaucoup d'amour, Lunar.


End file.
